It Started With A Click
by zenithoflife
Summary: It started because he simply, absolutely, irritatingly refused to stop clicking his pen.  "Humphrey, I knew you were intellectually deficient, but I never knew your stupidity extended quite that far to throwing my bag out of the window."


It Started With A Click

Click.

Blair Waldorf slumped backwards into her chair and tried to block out that offensive, irritating, potentially life-threatening noise that drilled like a chainsaw into her ears.

Click.

She tried. She _had_ tried. And tried. And tried again. The lethal object of doom was still intent on doing its utmost to contribute to noise pollution. And if she somehow could not seem to concentrate on her work while it was on its mission, hell, it wasn't for the lack of trying on her part.

Click. Click. Click.

"Will you cut that out?" She exploded. "You have been clicking that infernal pen for almost my entire lifetime! Will it kill you to stop that clicking and get away from me?"

And no, that was not an explosion of rage, she chanted to herself. It wasn't even an outburst, well, technically it was, but no, she was not going to admit it. Because simply put, the Waldorfs did not get _angry_. They were above such inferior expressions of rage, because from birth they were already made to assume the cold stoic façade befitting the title of the Waldorfs. They simply did not get angry, or frustrated, or demonstrate that they weren't human-sized living breathing robots, but that wasn't quite the point.

The owner of the evil noise-generating irritance blinked owlishly from behind his spectacles, as he took them off and rubbed his eyes.

"Firstly, if it wasn't detention, and if it wasn't a school-mandatory exercise, I wouldn't even be near you." The boy pointed out, rather logically and unfairly, she thought. "Secondly, it wasn't a lifetime, it was all of fifteen minutes."

"And thirdly," he added, rather unnecessarily, "it isn't as if there's anything else to do." He took aim and lobbed a wadded up paper ball at the waste paper bin. It missed and fell unceremoniously on the ground with a cheerful bounce.

"Well, there goes any attempt at stunning you with my amazing throwing prowess!" He sighed in mock heartbreak. "I'm bored!"

"So bored that you have to resort to clicking you pen?" She retorted. "Stop stating the obvious—"

"Mr Humphrey?" Two pairs of eyes swiveled reflexively to the front of the room. "Much as it pains me to break up your adolescent courtship, do try to conduct your flirting outside this detention room."

"I'm not flirting with him!" She sprang up defensively.

"She was pissed—" The boy sitting next to her started.

"And he was littering." She cut off.

The boy next to her tried futilely to stifle his laughter behind his book. She glared at him, before smiling sweetly at the substitute teacher. "Nothing's wrong. So with your consent, we're going to continue wasting away our life until the detention bell rings."

"Yes, yes." He waved her off dismissively. "Stop making all that noise."

As said classroom was filled with degenerate species of humanity, all intent on making the most noise they could within that two-hour detention, she found that blatantly unfair. But who could actually be bothered to argue with him?

"I can't believe you actually said that," The evil spawn of Satan currently lounging over in his chair, started clicking his pen nonchalantly. "And I'm still bored."

She heroically resisted the urge to ram his pen down his throat. Although it did prove a tempting option. Hell, they might even present her with a medal or something for ridding the world of such a nuisance.

"And you're still pissed." He supplied, grinning at her.

She stared at him, stupefied. The nerve of that guy, was he laughing at her?

"I am tired," She enunciated, "of sitting in this hall doing nothing. There is a difference. I have two tests tomorrow that I refuse to study for, finals next week and a ton of homework. So please, by all means crawl back into your hole and forget my existence."

This was said in an even polite tone because the Waldorfs did not get pissed. At all. Even when confronted with irritating invasions to their personal space which was what this boy was currently doing.

Until he pitched her bag out of the window.

"What the hell are you doing?" On hindsight, she did wonder how her voice had reached such stunning decibels. At this point however, the boy in front of her remained remarkably unfazed by her undignified screech.

There went the Waldorf's cool, calm and robotic exterior. The bastard just sent her bag out the window! Even the iron-cast Waldorf rules couldn't apply under such circumstances.

He grinned unabashedly at her, before sending his own along the tried and tested path. It landed with a satisfied thump outside the window as she tried her best not to think about the glass canister she was bringing back to the estate for her Science experiment. Although, she would die before admitting she actually made an effort. She, Blair Waldorf, was above such menial labour.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. And briefly envisioned mutilating him slowly and painfully in a thousand different ways in her Yoga meditations for Experts Beyond the General Population.

"If you have broken any of the stuff in my bag, I highly doubt you have the means to pay out your penniless pocket—" She started to launch into an extremely explicit description of what she was going to do with his genitals before she was cut off.

"Sssshhh!" He said in a sibilant whisper, effectively shushing her into silence. "Follow my lead! Go to the toilet."

That was it? Go to the toilet? She fumed inwardly. How about sending him on a one-way journey to heaven? Painful, graphically X-rated, but free which was perfect for his impoverished monetary status.

"Pssssst!" She found him gesturing to her from outside the window. "Come down!"

And somehow, she found herself stumbling along the cobbled pathways directly towards the window where he was standing.

One moment, Dan Humphrey found himself grinning, the next saw him being dragged in the wake of one extremely angry Waldorf.

She found it was comical to experiment the different decibels his voice could make as she twisted his ear. She never knew that it was possible for one to squeal quite like that.

"Woman, stop it!" He yelled and hopped frantically as she gave his ear one last pinch before letting go.

"What the hell were you thinking?" She stormed, blazing with fury. "I knew you were intellectually deficient, but I never knew your stupidity extended quite that far."

"I get it, I get it—you're pissed." He huffed as he nursed his ear, raising his hands in defeat. Well at least she had the decency to move out of range from the detention room.

"Come on, I'll spring you out of here," He said grinning. "You're bored, I'm bored, we have pretty much nothing to do and two hours to burn."

"You. And me." She eyed him dubiously. Hell, she was trying to salvage her reputation as a power-hungry dictator, not mixing with the peons. The potential for this to blow up was enormous. This was bad, horrendous, absolutely disastrous.

"Let's go." And she stalked out, dignified as usual, leaving him to catch up with her.


End file.
